Ford snorted at that. He wasn't sure which was funnier: the characterization of Noble's workshop as a den of iniquity or the idea that he might be devising schemes against Ford. Ford had been in the workshop often enough, and he knew his brother well enough, to know what he was up to when he disappeared into it for hours on end, and it wasn't devious or scandalous in the slightest. He was a workaholic even before their money issues had surfaced; if his workshop was a den of anything it might have been of foul odors, either from the potions or from Noble having forgotten to bath too many days in a row. And as for the notion that he'd be plotting against Ford — well, there was nothing to inherit except the debts and the responsibilities. Ford often felt that Noble might have shouldered them better (or at least he'd thought that initially — after the incident that spring he was less sure), but he was under no illusion that Noble wanted to deal with any of it.
"You can if you like," he said with a shrug. "He'd probably be properly annoyed by that. Particularly if you got in the way of his cauldron." Not that a ghost could really get in the way of anything, but Ford doubted Noble could keep working undeterred if he had to keep reaching through Barnaby Wye's chest in order to stir his potion.
"You can if you like," he said with a shrug. "He'd probably be properly annoyed by that. Particularly if you got in the way of his cauldron." Not that a ghost could really get in the way of anything, but Ford doubted Noble could keep working undeterred if he had to keep reaching through Barnaby Wye's chest in order to stir his potion.
Set by Lady!